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[Intro: Buddha Monk (Fung See U)] (Yo yo, fuck that, these niggaz talkin' that bullshit out here, man) (They bitch niggaz, man) Yeah yeah yeah, don't worry about it, Fung These niggaz ain't sayin' shit, yo check this out (fuck them niggaz!) [Buddha Monk:] This one right here I'm a throw down for y'all Just because I did that, don't mean I care for y'all Brooklyn, nigga, the town of Biggie and Jay-Z Where both of them made money and now, of course, me Steppin' up to bat, ya out before ya swung I don't have rap cyphers, I laugh at rap cyphers What I need? I need to get in here and spit this quick So I could get thirty thousand closer to get gettin' rich Lampin' on the Island sippin' Hennessey and Red That's just for a vacation, I'm a live B.K. 'til I'm dead And fuck bein' iced out, I'd rather live in a nice house With my seeds, could smell the sea and not worry about goin' out Still bang, still sell them thangs Still clap at ya man, still first on ya man It's B.K., baby, and that was one take [Beat kicks in] [Intro 2: Buddha Monk] Yeah fuckin' young bucks Letras de cancionesY'all can't fuck with us, nigga It's Team Elite, what? Buddha Monk, first see major, nigga [Buddha Monk:] Make me Elite off the Team, nigga, my blood dirty hungry Thirsty fuckin' horny for the love of this game The streets ain't my fame but it's whole top aim Sell raw 'caine, live, cry, die, change And remember the name but you can't you're at aim Divin' from them things, survivin' from them things Whoa now, don't get too cocky, it might change Just cause you with ya man, ain't a damn thing changed I glide for these rocks, re-up all my weed spots And please trust, Team Elite ain't far with the heaters All we need is us, take G's and bust, roll weed and puff You sleep then indeed, God, you will trust When I came in the door, I said it before Don't make it a homicide, lay yo' ass on the floor And Brooklyn don't care if y'all niggaz is bad And Brooklyn don't care if you die by my hand It's... keep ya mouth closed, live life long It's... it doesn't matter who's right or who's wrong It's... Duc-Lo, some niggaz gettin' it on It's... duck five-oh, bust at them rascals On the F.D.R. switchin' lanes, bustin' back, liftin' the pain You got one, did his man, dropped him, get around that van Well done, dunn, he stashed the car so they won't find me And trial me for any one of those Brooklyn robberies [Chorus x2: Buddha Monk] Who's there? (Nigga, I don't know, I don't know) Who's there? (Nigga, I don't know, I don't know) [Fung See U:] Welcome to Hell where cats survive off crack sales Where ya fifteen in the jail cell and can't make bail Where there's so much gunfire it's foggy city Where cats release shots off a raw intensity Where motherfuckers like to get dough, live low To plough, pull motherfuckers out their car window My city dark and gloomy, ain't no sunshine Unless you lookin' down the barrel of a bloody-ass nine Pick up a package, on the Mason Dixon Line Guided by the angel of crime, I'm in it through time I'm not a role model, I just sip on forty bottles With my nigga Rilo reminicisin' about The Apollo The monument was shaped like a bullet that's hollow That's why I envision myself never ever seein' tomorrow My niggaz stretch from D.C. to Brooklyn When you hear "SUUU! " you know who the fuck's in command Welcome to Dodge City where the ex-mayor had a crisp hand And wouldn't serve a nigga without, a bird in the hand Let's go, the black commando, the inner-city Rambo Leave hoods in shambles, who the fuck wanna gamble? We don't talk where I'm from, we just, roll and get 'em A bunch of niggaz yellin' "Brrrr... high high high-stick 'em! " From B.K. to the D.C., my niggaz keep it grimy Beef is where ya find me with a whole bunch of crimies [Chorus x4] From Letras Mania